Inconvenient TiMER
by jacedesbff
Summary: In a world where people have TiMERs installed on their wrists, a person's Timer tells them the DAY that they will meet their soulmate, but not the exact TIME during that day. As one might imagine, this is an important distinction for a pair of assassins (neither of whom believes in soulmates, anyway.)
1. Unexpected

When SHIELD got the intel that the Black Widow was coming after Agent Carter that afternoon, Clint Barton was glad to hear it. It wasn't that he minded the detail. Following Sharon Carter around wasn't a hardship, and the assignment was a necessary one. His job was to watch Carter's back and make sure that her would-be assassin was taken out before the assassin took out Carter. No, his good humor – nigh until relief – at the prospect of the assignment ending had nothing to do with the job itself and everything to do with his Timer, which had gone from 11 years of being blank to showing numbers eight days ago and was set to go off today. It wasn't even that he was looking forward to meeting this woman – it was more akin to the feeling he got at the end of a long stakeout; it was the thrill of knowing the wait was over. As opposed to a stakeout, however, the end of this journey was coupled with raging curiosity. Seriously, who was this woman?

All he had to do was take out the Black Widow. Take out one of the only assassins in the world as good as he was, then meet his "soulmate" all on the same day. Hey, life wasn't dull.

oOo

The Black Widow, real name unknown, was infamous for her ability to conduct her work like a ghost. Unseen before, during and after her hits, much thought had gone into how to trap her into being at a given place at a given time, as far as such a thing could be determined for anyone, much less this woman.

Despite the fact that the organization was low on details about the cagey assassin, SHIELD was, in reality, good at what they did. While luck played a part (as it so often does), it was also through considerable effort, an excellent spy network and the work of some very good analysts that SHIELD determined that their elusive nemesis was responsible for almost all of the wet work done on behalf of the Bernards, one of Europe's most dangerous criminal families.

Based on this information, SHIELD planted Sharon Carter among the Bernard ranks with the purported purpose of gathering intel on their criminal enterprises. Their real goal, however, was to entrap the woman who had become one of SHIELD's most wanted. So it was then when SHIELD leaked to the Bernards that Sharon was a plant, it never occurred to the Bernards that Natasha, and not the Bernards, was actually the target.

Whether Natasha was aware was a different discussion.

Knowing the expert capabilities of both the Bernard family and the Black Widow, SHIELD put two of its best agents on the case. Sharon Carter went in to "spy" on the Bernards, and Clint Barton went in to protect Agent Carter and take out the Black Widow. From his lofty vantage point overseeing all of these machinations, Nick Fury felt as good as he ever did about the prospects for success surrounding such a mission.

It is at such times that the universe likes to laugh hysterically at the folly of humankind.

oOo

Upon learning from Phil Coulson that the Black Widow was expected that day, Clint and Sharon both went on high alert (well, higher alert – this was the Black Widow. It's not like either of them had ever been relaxed.) Having previously identified the best location for the hit, Sharon had made it a habit for the last few weeks that on any day she didn't have a business lunch, she went to the Old Botanical Gardens to eat in the open air. She made no effort to be stealthy, the idea being that anyone watching would think she was engaging in this risky behavior in order to throw suspicion off of herself.

At 12:30 p.m., Sharon sat in the one spot that allowed Barton to both remain nondescript and have a near-universal view of anyone trying to approach his mission partner. Clint did what he did best – he waited. It was a little unusual in that he was waiting in somewhat plain view atop a scenic rock, but his gun was hidden behind a book and an arm sling, and he endeavored to look like any other guy out enjoying a nice day. His lifelong practice of looking unremarkable finished off his cover.

A stunning redhead walked towards Sharon and while outwardly he gave no sign, Clint's senses heightened. It was her. He knew it.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep-beep. _

The redheaded woman stopped and looked around.

Sharon looked over, her food forgotten in her lap.

Clint looked down, his book almost dropping to reveal his gun.

He and the redhead locked eyes.

In the microsecond between the Black Widow moving to run and doing so, Sharon tackled her to the ground.

"Oh, my goodness!" Sharon exclaimed. "I am so sorry! I thought you would move back! That was your Timer that just went off, right? I can't believe I was here to see it!"

Clint jumped down as Sharon babbled on, ostensibly helping the Widow up while actually holding her in an iron grip.

"I think we have a few things to talk about," Clint said to his target as he took ahold of her other arm. "But first, let's make sure you're okay."

He and Sharon led the Black Widow out of the park as Sharon continued her running monologue about Timers and how great they were and how she didn't have one anymore because she and her husband had theirs removed after they got married. She kept it up all the way to the car, which was good because Clint was at a complete loss as to what he should say.

oOo

Clint and Natasha stared at each other wordlessly while Sharon spoke with Coulson on her encrypted sat phone.

"Oh, come on, like I could make this up. Yes, he's right here."

Sharon turned to Clint and held out the phone. He took it without taking his eyes off of Natasha.

Clint spoke before Coulson could get a word out.

"Let me talk to her first."

"What exactly do you think you have to say, Barton?"

"I'll call you back."

Clint hung up the phone and handed it back to Sharon. Both women looked at Clint with raised eyebrows.

"Agent, would you mind leaving the Widow and I alone for a few minutes? I'd like to talk to her in private."

Sharon's only response was to raise the other eyebrow.

"I'm not going to let her go. I just want to talk to her without an audience." He didn't add anything else, and while Sharon couldn't suppress an eye roll, she did cross the room to the door, stopping before she shut the door behind her to give Clint another look. It held a wealth a meaning, including but not limited to, "Screw this up and I'll hurt you."

To the Black Widow, she added, "The Bernards don't know about this safe house. The windows are bulletproof and sealed. I'll be in the other room."

Sharon shut the door behind her.

There was a moment of silence before Clint spoke.

"I lost a bet."

If Clint didn't know better, he would swear that the Black Widow, who had yet to say a word, wanted to roll her eyes at him. Well, she wouldn't be the first woman to do that to him today.

"During Basic Training a couple of buddies and I each chugged a gallon of milk. Whoever threw up first had to get a Timer. I kept it because I didn't think it would ever turn on, it didn't interfere with my aim, and the dangers of having it removed were greater than the stupidity of having it in the first place." He paused. "I always figured I was safe because I knew I'd never be able to take anyone seriously who needed a Timer to tell them who to date. I'm aware of the hypocrisy, by the way. My excuse was that I was an under-age Army recruit trying to hide how terrified I was of being found out. I chalked it up as a learning experience." He paused again, his body relaxing as he continued. "Imagine my surprise when it came on a week ago. I kind of hoped whoever it was had a similar thing – as in, the reason was something other than using technology to find romance. I have to admit, it never occurred to me that one of the possible reasons would be to lure a man to his death."

Having said his piece, Clint sat back to wait for her to respond. He had no doubt that he could wait her out; that's what he did.

"I didn't kill him."

It was Clint's turn to raise an eyebrow. Natasha showed no visible reaction as she continued.

"The client didn't want him dead. They wanted information. He wanted to know if I his soulmate. I didn't have time to get it removed before I came here."

"Should I be happy about that?" Clint asked. "You would have killed him if you thought it was necessary."

"You were going to kill me." Her statement was clear – he wasn't any better than she was.

"You kill innocents."

"And you know chapter and verse on everyone the American government asks you to murder, is that it?" Now she did roll her eyes. "You were right, you are hypocritical."

"Mostly I just wanted to see what you would say."

Natasha let out an exasperated breath.

"For the most part, I have to trust that what I'm being asked to do is the right thing," Clint continued. "I won't hurt children, although as far as we know, neither do you." Natasha didn't respond, so Clint went on.

"If I'm ever uncomfortable with an assignment, I talk to my handler about it. It's only happened a couple of times."

"And what happened – those couple of times?" Natasha asked without affect, her voice betraying nothing of what the question actually meant to her.

"They gave me more information and I completed most of the assignments."

"Most?"

"Story for another time."

"And they let you turn down an assignment." Her tone was colored slightly with disbelief. For her, it was as though she were dripping derision.

"Yes."

"Just like that."

"My handler understood my reasons."

"Your bosses sound like idiots."

"I'm good at what I do and I don't ask for much. When I do, I try to make it count."

Natasha looked at him for a moment and then sighed.

"Are you going to get this over with or are you going to talk to me death?"

"I'd prefer to recruit you, but I suppose death is still an option."

Natasha blinked. "What?"

"I can't say that your hands would be that much cleaner than they are right now, but for the most part they're trying to do what's right, to serve a greater good. You wouldn't be alone anymore – somebody would have your back. And you wouldn't be hunted anymore." Clint leaned forward. "We can't change who we are. There are people in the world who need killing and there are only a few people in the world who can do that. So we shouldn't have to change who we are or what we do. We can try to do it for the right reasons, though."

"Love is for children."

Caught by surprise, Clint blinked. "Come again."

"Love is for children," she repeated. "Timer or not, bringing me in to work for SHIELD isn't going to end with us getting married or having babies or covering ourselves in matching tattoos. Love is for children."

"What do you think I was planning on doing when I met my 'soulmate'?" Clint didn't actually hold up his hands to make finger quotes, but they were clearly implied.

Natasha gave a slight shrug.

"I don't believe in soulmates. Never have." Clint gave a small huff. "I think love is real, but I also think it turns most people into idiots. What was I supposed to do? Meet some nice Swiss girl and take her home to the U.S. to hang around the kitchen barefoot and pregnant while I travel around the world taking out third-world dictators? Lie to her that I work for a bank? Tell her the truth? I figured I'd get a couple nice nights or weeks out of it, then after I took you out, I'd leave a sad little goodbye note on her night stand and disappear. It wasn't a happy scenario for me or her."

"You didn't think the sex would be good?" Natasha asked drily. "Wouldn't that be happy enough for you?"

"I figured it would be great. And the entire time I would lie about who I was, and I would leave knowing that I'd made someone lose part of who she was. Because some girl's Timer was going to tell her I was her soulmate and then I was going to abandon her. Even if she said she didn't get it to find true love, advertising has brainwashed everyone into thinking that's what it does, women especially, in my experience. Kind of a jackass move, but what else was I gonna do about it? I couldn't have it removed in the middle of an op. I honestly didn't think it would ever come on. If I thought it would, I might have taken the risk to get it off a long time ago. Who knows? Soulmates aren't a good idea for people like us."

"So if I were to join SHIELD, you wouldn't want to – I don't know what to call it – date?"

"Sure I would. Why not? Doesn't mean I believe in soulmates. Any more than you believe in love. If you don't want to be with me, fine. Go find someone else or be by yourself. I still think you'd be a good fit for SHIELD. You're gonna have to decide fast, though, because SHIELD isn't gonna want you back out on the streets. And Sharon'll kill you even if I won't."

"So death or SHIELD. Those are my options?"

"I'm well aware that your hands are free and have been since before Sharon left. You could have made a break for it at any point since our Timers went off. You're here talking to me because you want to be. If you leave, you will always have to look over your shoulder, just like you have every day for years now. Sharon's just the most immediate threat."

Clint went silent, his face betraying as little as Natasha's.

"Alright," she said at last. "I will come with you."

oOo

Natasha meant what she said – she did not in any way, shape or form believe in soulmates, and she thought love was a silly concept that most adults would be wise to avoid. She was, however, rather nonplussed by how well Clint Barton seemed to understand her, her motivations and how she looked at what she did. She wasn't used to that. Men did not look at the Black Widow as a complex creature. Most assumed that she was a slut with martial arts skills. They didn't look at her as someone with complex underpinnings.

Barton knew she was tired. He seemed to know that while she didn't mind killing, she did mind the reasons why, a belief that she had never told nor in any way communicated to another soul. The Red Room didn't allow for such weakness and her time as a contract assassin didn't allow for detailed questioning of potential employers.

She liked that Barton's reasons for not having his Timer removed were practical rather than romantic. Surprisingly enough, she believed what he had to say, and respected the fact that he could believe in love while discrediting the notion of One True Love.

No, Natasha didn't believe in love, but she did believe in compatibility, and she sensed that she and Clint Barton would be compatible. He hadn't earned her trust, but he had earned a tenative willingness on her part to allow him to try.

Because he was right. She was tired. She was bone weary from the demands of operating solo, always chasing a target with the knowledge that she had a target of her own on her back. She didn't have a lot of faith in SHIELD – one government agency was much like another in her estimation, but the Americans at least had pretensions to respectability. If nothing else, perhaps with them she could build back up her reserves before having to go back out on her own.

Perhaps.

oOo


	2. Compatibility

It took nine months for SHIELD Command and Natasha to be mutually convinced that she was ready for field ops. Natasha viewed herself as ready after seven, which meant that Fury held back for a few months more just because he could.

First SHIELD identified and disabled as many of the Red Room's triggers as they could. Natasha's full cooperation in the process went a long way towards convincing Fury and the rest of Command that her motivation wasn't completely centered around Barton and their supposed connection. Next Natasha participated in a complete assessment of her physical skills and readiness which proved entertaining for all.

First up – weapons. Natasha underwent evaluation in small arms, semi- and fully-automatic weapons, sniper rifles, shotguns, anti-tank and –missile weaponry, incendiary devices, IEDs, and thermobaric devices. There was also a significant amount of time spent on projectile weapons such as knives and darts. While she didn't score higher than Clint in terms of accuracy (because no one did), she did score in the top five in every category.

She then demonstrated her considerable gifts in covert operations and subterfuge, including asset manipulation, infiltration, exfiltration, as well as those old-reliable standbys lock-picking and safe-cracking. She also displayed her extensive knowledge of electronic surveillance – identifying, installing, utilizing and disabling – and how to use them effectively for surveillance.

Then there was the fun stuff.

"MacGyver Skills" is a vague term that encapsulates all of the badass things a spy can come up with to deal with and get out of any and every situation they might encounter. Coulson, Hill and Barton all contributed scenarios for her to overcome. Fury even got involved (behind the scenes) by giving Coulson scenarios to put in. Combining her MacGyver Skills with extensive capabilities in urban escape and evasion, Natasha blew every expectation out of the water, making it eminently clear how she stayed alive for so long despite the multitude of agencies that were after her.

Next, Natasha proved to be hell on wheels in the driver's seat. Coulson brought in Jessica Drew, renowned throughout SHIELD as one of the best drivers the agency had ever seen. It seemed as though every employee on campus that day found a reason to walk by the driving range while Natasha and Jessica tore after one another on the constructed course. The race was ultimately called a draw, and Jessica gave Natasha a high-five of approval when they climbed out of their slightly-more-battered cars, no small compliment coming from her.

Finding the right sparring partner to assess and improve Natasha's hand-to-hand skills proved to be more difficult. Coulson took to the mat with her first, but while they held their own against each other, it wasn't quite right. It was hard for those watching (and participating) to put their finger on it, but something was off. Ultimately Coulson and Hill decided it was like finding the right dance partner, and Coulson wasn't it. So Hill stepped up, during which fight she and Natasha beat the absolute crap out of each other. After Natasha walked away with a dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist and Maria with a broken nose (leading to two black eyes) and several bruised ribs, it was decided to keep those two fighting on the same team.

So Clint was brought in to the small gym that was being used for Natasha's evaluations. Having been a member of Delta Force in the service, Clint was one of the best-trained soldiers in SHIELD's arsenal, and viewed in concert with having recruited her, it was decided that he might be the right guy for the job. And indeed, they were each other's perfect dance partner.

As they Barton and Romanoff on the sparring mat, Coulson and Hill spoke in low tones to each other, never taking their eyes off of the beautifully fighting pair.

"This is one of the most amazing things I have ever seen," observed Coulson.

"We're going to have to bring in other agents and grade them based on how much they learn just from watching these two," Maria murmured in return.

"The good ones will change everything about how they fight."

They paused and watched Clint sweep his leg under Natasha's feet only for her to leap over him and spin mid-air to keep the fight going.

"Do you think they know?" Maria asked.

A slight smile flirted across Coulson's face. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

Maria laughed softly.

"I'm going to go look at possible missions to send them on. Get them started on the road to legend."

"Started?" Coulson murmured to himself as Maria left the gym.

oOo

FIVE MONTHS LATER

oOo

Clint and Natasha opened the door to their safe house having already determined that it had been undisturbed in the hours since they left it. Mission accomplished, their extraction plan called them for them to lie low for the next 12 hours, at which time they would meet Coulson to return to the States.

Each of them stowed their gear and Natasha hit the shower first. While she was in the other room, Clint put together some sandwiches and by the time Natasha emerged, wet hair in a knot on top of her head, he was done eating, so he took his turn in the restroom while she ate. They hadn't exchanged a word since entering the small house, but rather than the silence feeling awkward, it was reassuring, not something either operative was used to feeling after a mission. The oddest part was probably how odd it _wasn't_.

Even though it was their first field op as a team, the two of them already had a level of comfort with each other that others worked for months or even years to attain. It was also something neither of them had experienced before. They had spent the past several months training together – sparring, field simulations, strategy sessions, geopolitical analysis. The only thing Natasha hadn't picked up was archery, much to Clint's despair. In return, his least favorite exercises were her efforts to guide him in how to be a honey trap. He was better at it than she was at archery, but he hated it a lot more passionately.

"It doesn't feel natural," he explained after his first disastrous attempt. "I feel like an elephant trying to hula dance."

At Natasha's raised eyebrow, Clint smiled.

"I've seen that – it isn't nearly as entertaining as it sounds. Mostly it's just sad. The elephant hates it, and I always hated it for the elephant."

Natasha nodded understanding and Clint continued.

"I'll do it if I have to. I'd just rather not."

As Natasha ate, she reflected on how well she worked with this man, the former circus performer and Special Forces veteran whose skills complimented hers so very, very well. The Red Room required their operatives to be able to work alone or with others, but they specialized in solo operations, and the majority of her work had been done on her own. Now, though, she couldn't imagine a scenario that wouldn't be enhanced by Clint's presence.

She knew that the majority of her co-workers assumed she and Clint were having sex. Why wouldn't they? She certainly thought about it. While no one actually in the know said anything about the pair's Timers, Clint was well-known and respected and SHIELD was full of exceptionally observant people. Everyone knew about his blank Timer – and everyone knew that Timers turned dull pink once someone met their soulmate. So when he came back from his mission with a completed Timer as did his mark-cum-recruit? You didn't have to work for a covert government agency to connect the dots. Actual details of the meeting were irrelevant – everyone at SHIELD knew that Barton and Romanoff were each other's soulmates and viewed them accordingly.

Coulson was right – the Timers alone would have guaranteed the pair immortality in SHIELD lore. Then their handler had the two assassins spar in the main ring one busy afternoon. Natasha knew Coulson was right to do it – it put to rest any questions about her competency and showed that she could tangle with a SHIELD operative without killing them. She also knew that it cemented in the collective SHIELD mind that she and Clint were going at it like rabbits behind closed doors. Because even she and Clint were aware that their sparring had a strong undercurrent of sensuality (not that they did it on purpose, but it was most definitely there.) Yes, they knew; they just didn't care.

Well, they said they didn't care.

Up to this point, neither of them had done anything about their slow-burning sexual tension. She was focused on jumping through SHIELD's bureaucratic hoops and the two of them were working on building a professional partnership. Neither of them wanted or needed romance to get in the way. And that's what it would be – romance. It could never be just physical, just scratching an itch, and they both knew it. Once they crossed that line, there would be no going back. So up until now, they had assiduously avoided any contact that could be considered overtly sexual – no kissing, no hand-holding. But that didn't mean they could temper the manner in which their sexual compatibility bled all over the floor every time they sparred. It was what it was.

As Natasha listened to the sound of Clint's shower and imagined him in it, she thought it might finally be time to do something about resolving all of their sexual tension. They had completed their first mission, bringing their partnership full circle and proving that they were as good in the field as they were in a training room. And while she still didn't believe in love, even she had to admit that yes, apparently Timers were indicative of something, because she had never experienced anything before remotely like the connection she had to this man.

Natasha didn't trust anyone. It wasn't that she didn't trust easily – she simply didn't trust. But she found herself trusting Clint. She genuinely tried to stop herself from doing it in the early days of their training, but every time she turned around, there he was, being competent at everything he did. Competence was incredibly important to Natasha – if your partner couldn't guard your back, what was the point? But everything she could do with weapons, Barton could do, too. Her preference for close-range work and his for long-range complimented each other flawlessly. Their skills weren't equal – they were complimentary.

Taken as a whole, it was like she and Clint were designed to be each other's partner. As Clint came out of the bathroom rubbing a towel over his still-damp hair, Natasha decided it was time to test their compatibility in a new area.

She put her empty plate in the sink next to his before turning and walking over to her partner.

"I can take first watch –" Clint began before seeing the expression on his partner's face.

"Remember when you said we could date?" Natasha asked.

Clint smiled faintly.

"I do, actually."

"How about we consider this the end of an extremely successful first date?"

"The couple that steals enemy files together stays together?" Clint noted, his smile growing.

"Something like that," Natasha answered right before she pressed her lips to his.

It was like an electric shock went through both of them and the next thing she knew, Clint had her pressed against the wall while his tongue fought hers for dominance in a dance she knew they could both win.

As she wrapped her legs around Clint's waist and he carried her to the bedroom, Natasha knew with absolute certainly that in this area, like every other, they would complement each other fabulously well.

She was right.

oOo

The next morning as the two of them packed up and got dressed to meet Coulson for extraction, Clint laughed.

"What?" Natasha asked with a smile.

"I still don't believe in soulmates," he said.

"And I don't believe in love," she replied with an answering smile.

"I might be changing my mind about Timers, though," he concluded.

She laughed and the two of them headed out the door, definitely on the same road.

/fin


End file.
